✘ remember again | Guarding Camp

[SMOKESTAR]

The sky blurred from dark gray into an almost blue black like the sheen of raven feathers, iridescent and glossy and the faintest bloom of pink just barely crept past the treeline; the sun was gone now but it's light lingered just barely and in its place the moon rose high and luminous as always. The last gathering he had been nervous for entirely different reasons than now, but this time his wariness came from the realization that this was one of the first he’d not be attending and who knew what would happen.

He’s not entirely bothered by being unable to go, the fact he looked quite obviously pregnant was bound to cause uncomfortable discussion and he would have had to grit his teeth and accept the congratulations and curious commentary. Howlingstar especially would have been in his ear about it given how eagerly she’d jumped upon Silversmoke to know about Orangeblossom’s litter.
Smokethroat floated calmly in the water near the edge of camp, a paw lowered to his stomach before he withdrew it in disgust. He knew he’d hate this, he didn’t realize the extent of his unease.
He showed just a little more noticeable than when he had first realized he was carrying kits now; maybe not so much that any cat but a particularly nosy one might see but all cats were nosy at the gathering. His dark cat in this night air was almost a blessing now, shrouding him in shadow and keeping his figure just barely visible as he trotted forward along the shore to the center of the camp; pausing once to shake gently and rid his pelt of any remaining water that had not sloughed off when he crawled forth from his brief swim.
​

 

[lichenstar]

Staring after the departing party was not as horrible as she'd originally imagined it to be... Though it was unfortunate to have to spend the night in a half-empty den waiting for the return of many of her friends, it was not a complete sorrow. Smokethroat lingered, obviously burdened by the extra weight he carried and restrained in his composure; she knew he hated the idle lifestyle in all the same ways she did. Being stuck here must not sit well with him... Briefly, the blue wondered what that would mean for the Gathering. Suddenly the deputy was there and then not again the next moon? Maybe it would not be worth paying attention to.... deputies did not always go, after all.

Sitting with a small hiccup after eating a late dinner, they watched with a soft, watchful gaze as others milled about, not excluding the shadow-swarmed figure of the RiverClanner in previous thought. He looked more or less peaceful... Lichentail didn't think that was a gift he often got. "I trust the swim was refreshing?"

It was awkward... trying to talk to just about anyone really. There were so few she trusted and fewer still who didn't think her a silly, arrogant molly. But if she was already bound to stay and guard the camp, she may as well make use of the time to engage in casual conversation. It might rid her of the discomfort of social situations with more practice.​

 

[CLOUDSPLASH]

"Ooooh, look at you, Smokey, I can't even imagine you floating around right now," a voice sings from the reedy shadows. The pearly silver of her moonlit grin precedes Cloudsplash when she trots over. Her white-tipped ears had been pricked for any sign of anything at all interesting, and Smokethroat isn't interesting—but he's a good, stone-faced deputy, and he's kind of round like a stone now too. The warrior then unblocks the channel between her brain and mouth and meows, "I thought you'd sink like a stone!" Cloudsplash tilts her head conspiratorially towards Lichentail, as though inviting the dutiful lead warrior to agree with her.

Even with his shaded pelt and cat-soft steps, the gleaming curve of the tom's white-spotted muscle is hard to miss, as is Lichentail's prim inquiry. Cloudsplash doesn't even bother to drum up a tease for that, as useless of a remark it was and probably only the best conversation-starter she could come up with. It's laughably obvious the swim was refreshing; Smokethroat would be sputtering and red-eared like a ThunderClanner who tripped into the Sunningrocks stream if it wasn't. Even as Greenleaf grips the forest, the reed-bound camp remained cool in the shade of willows and paws in the water.

The point needn't fret though: Cloudsplash had enough voice and interest for the both of them. It is a little strange, seeing the king's consort stuck in camp with the rest of the peasants on a full moon. She can only wonder what the other Clans would exclaim at his absence; perhaps more than one cat would pray to StarClan he was at the bottom of a river. "What'cha think they're talking about at Fourtrees right now, huh?" the molly wonders aloud, swishing her tail to the stream of thought.​

 

[FERNGILL]

Despite the fact that Fernpaw was now warrior age, he was not a warrior. Sitting among them, awake in the shade of night in an eerily empty camp... it felt wrong, felt as if he was doing something he wasn't supposed to. There was a low buzz of disappointment within him that he hadn't been chosen to go- though, equally, there was a hatable shred of relief. He'd not have to face Figfeather, admit to her he was not yet a warrior. Wouldn't have to show his marred face to that Thunderclanner who had pinned him at Sunningrocks.

He lay nearby, unable to settle into the too-small-for-him den yet, sleep a faraway thing. Thoughtful eyes slid over to Cloudsplash, to Lichentail... both chatting with Smokethroat, the former bringing to the surface a question that Fernpaw himself was wondering. "Last time I went, they established a new warrior code..." he mused quietly, zoning out briefly as he cast his mind back. "I hope I don't miss the next one."​

✦ penned by pin ✦​